Poison
by Edokage
Summary: Poison Ivy is an extreme environmentalist; kidnapping politicians and razing polluting factories to the ground to spread her message to the masses. Poisoning teenagers in a nightclub, however, is not something Batgirl would have expected of her.


Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any affiliated characters... no matter how much I wish I did.

**Poison**

"_The Batcave is cold tonight."_ The offhand thought by Barbara Gordon was more question than statement, albeit one she already knew the answer to. Still, it didn't stop her shivers and the chill she had been feeling the last few hours.

Of course the cave was cold, or at least it was away from the constantly running computer in the heart of the half natural, half man-made lair, but not more so than usual due to the meters of reinforced rock separating the construction from the rest of the world. No, the Batcave was not cold tonight, rather it was the unusual quiet from its occupants and the solemn atmosphere generated by the shifting data on the wide monitor that granted the place its current mausoleum-like qualities.

Staring unblinkingly at what appeared to be a 3D image of a protein with additional info rolling by lazily next to it, yet not seeing any of it, Batgirl began thinking back to earlier that evening when it all began.

It had been a quiet night so far for the static duo (quiet nights meant a lot of sitting on rooftops and looking for trouble that never came) of Batgirl and Robin. Batman was patrolling elsewhere in the city by himself (something he forbade both of his protegees from doing. Barbara figured from her young partner's expression whenever the topic arose that it would remain a major issue between the two alpha males until the younger would leave to go solo (or Batman changed his mind, but anyone who knew the caped crusader half as well as she did would know that that wouldn't happen. Ever.)) but so far nothing beyond purse snatchers and a single joyrider (if he could even be called that, considering he didn't know how to drive stick thus ending both joy and ride embarrassingly fast) had caught the eyes of either group.

This changed at about 2am when a reported sighting of Poison Ivy at a night club downtown sounded on the police frequency.

It might sound surreal to most people that some of Gotham's most dangerous criminals frequented the city's night life for some other reason than casual mayhem but the fact was that some rogues were quite popular in a few clubs (so popular in fact, that surprisingly many people came just for the possibility that their favorite villain was there). Poison Ivy, however was not one of these villains; she rarely ventured into civilization if she could avoid it, preferring to laze about in her overgrown hideouts between plans to de-urbanize the world rather than going clubbing.

"_But why target a night club of all places? Pam always went after big companies or powerful people." _It made no sense to Barbara and no matter how she looked at it.

Luckily her smaller partner chose that time to speak, derailing her (by now) circling train of thought. Turning her head, she asked him to repeat that.

"I asked if that place was plant themed. You know, since it's named Black Rose Café?" She answered in the negative, hoping it was still true when they arrived; Pamela Isley had never been one who cared about looks or design but after becoming Poison Ivy she had apparently discovered a love for interior decoration. Too bad she always ended up with 'Floronic Nightmare' as her chosen theme.

Landing next to their mentor on the roof of a nearby building, the two young heroes sighed in relief at the lack of plant life around or in the building.

Some clubs, as previously mentioned, were frequented by some villains in their spare time, and while they may be caught unaware by the bat clan whenever they show up to put them back behind bars, fighting a villain in a place filled with admirers and fans of said villains was never a fun experience. Two clubs in particular, Pantomime and Conundrum, had been outright declared off limits to the two of them by the Dark Knight (unless assisted by the GCPD or himself of course) after a few very humiliating and painful encounters which had ended with one or both of them needed to be rescued.

"_Good thing this place is just a regular night club; the last rope burns from getting hogtied by Harley Quinn have only just disappeared and I am not in a hurry to get more."_ Thankfully she was walking behind the two others in the dark so no one noticed her blush or uncomfortable squirming as she recalled the incident at Pantomime.

The Black Rose Café was one of the more normal night clubs in Gotham; having no specific dress code or (more or less) secret affiliations with the criminal underworld. It was a place where regular teens would spend their regular Friday nights drinking and dancing. The only thing truly extraordinary about the place was its history; how it was a high society restaurant called the Rose Café until one of the guests, the district attorney of the time as she recalled it, had been poisoned by one of the chefs because of some personal disagreement. After that, the restaurant closed and was later turned into a night club with a twist to the old name to attract attention.

"_Hopefully they won't have to change ownership again; I rather like the place as it is."_ Of course, being a regular teen, Barbara Gordon also used to spend her Friday nights here whenever her night time schedule allowed it (that is to say, not any more).

Now that she thought about it, she recalled bringing Pamela here once back when they were both regular teens. They had spent the night talking about boys and relationships for a change and as far as she remembered both Reds had had a good time.

"_Could that be her motive; a good time?" _A shrill scream brought her out of her thoughts. Stepping aside on reflex she narrowly avoided being trampled by a group of people frantically running for the exit.

"_Apparently not."_

Avoiding panicking party goers gracefully as she went deeper into the building, Batgirl finally located her two partners (or is it her one partner and her boss?) examining a body on the floor.

The person (not a body as she initially thought, seeing as he was not dead yet) was in a bad shape; his breathing was labored, pupils dilated, he was drenched in sweat (although that might have been from before he fell ill since the club currently felt like an oven) and he was twitching as if he was having a seizure of some kind.

Abandoning the poor guy to Batman's expert care to look for more victims (Ivy seemed to have left before they arrived) the two somewhat-friends (and that is _all_ they are despite what the tabloids say (and she thought the Joker was sick. Eww.) ) managed to find four more people collapsed, but thankfully still alive, before the paramedics arrived to take over.

The drive back to the Batcave was a tense affair; the five people were in the ER, apparently poisoned by some sort of strong neurotoxin, for no apparent reason. A background check revealed nothing to explain why Poison Ivy might have wanted them dead.

That was also a new one. Dead? Sure she had hurt people; she destroyed public property like no one's business whenever she terrorized the city and many people had come to harm in the process but she never killed, not deliberately at least.

The last piece of news was probably the worst of them all; a person was missing.

While this might not be so bad compared to the five people slowly dying while the doctors struggle to procure an antidote, Ivy's sudden change of heart had the local crime fighters worried. Poison Ivy was a dangerous foe but her general predictability made her less of a threat than she might have otherwise been; it made her both easier to locate and neutralize. Previously, the worst thing that could happen would be that a herbal duplicate of the poor guy would act as Poison Ivy's agent in society until eliminated and the victim freed. Now it was a race against time to find the hostage before he succumb to the poison of Poison Ivy while not knowing when, or even if, he had been poisoned in the first place.

Back where we began; in the solemn cold of the Batcave, a swoosh and the sound of quiet footsteps broke the silence and brought the attention of the trio to the final member of the crime fighting force, an elderly British gentleman holding a silver tray with three steaming cups and a plate of cookies.

"I thought you might have wanted some refreshments and a small break from work; you have, after all, been looking at that screen for the last half hour." Batman (or Bruce Wayne, since his cowl was currently down) leaned back on his chair with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Thanks Alfred, we might need a small break to get our minds on the right track."

"And get our blood sugar back up." Robin said, taking a cookie and a cup from the tray.

Barbara said nothing as she took the other cup of hot chocolate (the remaining cup was filled with coffee; just as dark and only slightly more bitter than the man it was reserved for). As deep in thought as she had been she had come to no conclusions about tonight, only more questions.

"Lack of motive aside." The billionaire playboy and crime fighter began. "The poison is the biggest mystery. There were no plants on the outside or inside of the building when we arrived nor were there any indication that there had ever been any. This has been confirmed by eye witnesses and security cameras at the scene suggesting Poison Ivy carried the poison on her person yet at no time was a plant of any kind seen by either." The picture on the monitor started to show security footage from the club's main entrance as he spoke. The quality was pretty good but didn't show anything out of the ordinary. In fact, if they didn't know who the nervous redhead walking past the oblivious bouncer was they would have mistaken her for just another teen.

The picture changed yet again; this time showing the five victims along with personal data for each, once again confirming that they were just regular teens.

"The poison in all five victims is the same and seems to have been mostly absorbed through the skin on their hands and facial region. Again, no one saw anything out of the ordinary until they started collapsing." ID info gave way to more current footage. This time of faint bruise-like marks on the inside of the index finger and thumb of three victims (all their right) and far darker, more irregular marks on the faces of the others. Regardless of their placement and shape of the marks the toxicity of them were obvious; the underlying bloodstream stood out like a badly made spiderweb tattoo on their skin, which in turn had paled significantly and even gained a slightly green tint.

"And of course our missing person." Again the picture changed to show a regular teenage boy, smiling into the camera. "Like the others, no relation to Poison Ivy or her cause."

"Maybe we are looking in the wrong place." The boy wonder suggested after having emptied his cup and the tray for anything sugar related. "Why do you think Ivy would do things differently now?"

Barbara turned away from the screen as it started showing the file on Poison Ivy. She had read it enough times to know what it said by now anyway and knew it wouldn't help them. Not that she had learned much more about her best friend by doing so (between gymnastics, school and catching bad guys she didn't have much time for socializing so yes, she still regards the misanthropic eco-terrorist who tries to turn her father into mulch on a regular basis as her best friend. Sad, maybe, but she wouldn't have it any other way).

She knew about Pam's past (or had correctly deducted the details) before she had become Batgirl.

How her father had left her mother and her when she was little.

How her mother had focused on her career rather than her when she needed it the most.

How she moved around a lot because of her mother's job before coming to Gotham, leaving her without any close friends.

How she had turned to environmentalism to find somewhere to belong, something to believe in.

Of course she knew about how she became Poison Ivy (hello, she was _there_).

And after she became Poison Ivy... she knew about that too no matter how much she wished she didn't.

How she, drunk on her new found power, had destroyed Chlorogene, attacked the police, kidnapped the father of her best friend and tried to feed him to one of her new creations.

How she, after being stopped, had seen her mother walk out of her life, never to return again.

How her future had been utterly destroyed by her own actions.

How she had lost everything. Everything but her plants... and Barbara.

She had seen how her friend had wasted away in Arkham; the only minor in an adult house of horrors.

She saw her sunken eyes behind the glass after the first months of captivity.

She saw the scars from surgical instruments after freeing her from Lex Luther.

She saw... Damn. Hell of a time to start crying.

Looking around, her eyes met with Alfred's. Giving her a reassuring, but subtle, nod the faithful butler handed her a handkerchief while the other occupants of the cave were busy finding answers. From the sound of it they hadn't had much luck.

Returning the handkerchief to its owner with a small, but grateful, smile, Batgirl walked back to the computer, lukewarm drink still in her hands.

The huge monitor was still displaying Pamela's file. Shown next to it were pictures of the victims.

Skimming across the medical part of the file she caught fragments of the long report while once again getting lost in thought.

…alteration of patient's genetic and biochemical makeup too extensive for attempted reversal to be possible...

"_She can never return to what she was, not that she would want to at this point of course, but still."_

...genetic changes alone too widespread for the patient to possibly conceive within former species...

"_I think that's one of the few times I ever saw her regretting being part plant but I guess it's no surprise; she always liked children better than adults. Being told you can't have your own must have been a hard blow."_

...biochemical changes continue to escalate. patient's body changes in unforeseen ways...

"_It's called 'puberty', professor. Maybe you have heard of it."_

…toxins detected in bloodstream far more potent than previously expected...

"_She-" _Maybe choking on her drink wasn't the best way to bring attention to herself but it did the job nonetheless.

Still too busy coughing the last bit of not so hot (luckily for her) chocolate out of her windpipe to talk Barbara pointed at the last part of the report she had read. Bruce, who until a few moments ago was busy reading about possible changes in brain chemistry, was narrowing his eyes as he took in the passage and the possible implications as was Robin (or at least she thought he did; the domino mask always made reading his facial expressions difficult).

"It's certainly possible that Poison Ivy used her own blood as a means of killing those people but that still leaves her without a motive not to mention a reason to forgo her usual MO for a more complicated one with less chance of success."

"Maybe she wanted to try something new, or she didn't want us to know it was her." Robin piped in.

Looking into her cup while licking her lips of the last traces of cocoa, Batgirl suddenly froze as the last pieces fell into place. Her eyes darted from the edge of the cup to the pictures from the five victims.

"Or maybe she didn't mean to." The conclusion was barely above a whisper but she was heard by all regardless.

Sprinting to the Batcycle, Barbara hoped she would arrive in time to prevent a disaster (or, considering more than half an hour had gone by, at least be able to pick up the pieces afterward and prevent a second from happening).

Street signs and houses passed by in a blur as the motorcycle raced through town, the driver inwardly cursing up a storm at herself for not noticing sooner. It was so obvious; the familiar shape of the marks on their faces, the shape of the marks on their hands yet no one noticed.

"Of course no one noticed." She berated herself "Anyone but me shouldn't have noticed. But I knew, I _knew_. Damn." Her panicking monologue was cut short by an annoyed Batman through the headset built into the helmet.

"_Batgirl_, what are you talking about. What did you notice and _where_ are you going?" Narrowly avoiding being run over while crossing the opposite lane for a left turn Batgirl's answered to the best of her ability (which, considering she was navigating through a metropolis while driving at least twice as fast as the local speed limit and keeping track of a conversation simultaneously, is not very good).

"Lips. The marks I mean. On the people. She didn't know she did it but she did. And I'm going there to find her-"

"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Calm down. Take it from the beginning. What about lips?" Batgirl slowed down the bike considerably as she collected her thoughts to give a more coherent answer. She wouldn't be any help if she crashed and ended up paralyzed anyway.

"The poisoned marks on the victims were from directly or indirectly touching her lips. The marks on the hands were from touching the glass she had been drinking from. She didn't know her lips were toxic and didn't mean to hurt the victims."

"And the missing person?"

"... Hopefully alive but considering the amount of poison transferred by accidental contact alone..." Recalling her conversation with Pamela at the Black Rose Café, she knew what was probably going on right now, causing her to speed up again.

"Where are we going then?" She knew he was following her signal in the Batmobile and appreciated his help but this wasn't something he could help her with.

"_I_ am going to help my friend. She is at her old apartment complex." _"Or at least I hope she is. That conversation's not much of a lead after all but it's all I got."_ "I'll give you a signal if the 'hostage' is still alive but otherwise could you keep back?" Batman was clearly not liking this breach of protocol; she could tell he was scowling even through the communicator.

"Batgirl, you can't go in alone-"

"I'm not going as Batgirl." In hindsight, perhaps not the best thing to say in the situation but Barbara didn't care.

"Ba-"

"No." She cut him off. "I _need_ to do this. _She_ needs me to do this... Please." Batman's hesitant sigh told it all; his steel-reinforced resolve was folding in on itself like wet cardboard. Barbara knew what was coming next; a single non-negotiable, but not unreasonable, demand just to show her that he is still the one in charge.

"I'll stay out of sight, but close by." There it was. Predictable like clockwork. It was nice to know that at least some things never change.

"Thanks boss." Parking the Batcycle in an empty side alley behind some trashcans in the quiet residential neighborhood, Batgirl quickly changed to Barbara Gordon in the relative safety of total darkness by putting on some civilian clothes on top of her costume after taking off the cloak and placing it in a compartment in the Batcycle.

Crossing the last distance on foot by taking a shortcut through the alleys, passing walled off passages by climbing fire escapes and slaloming between litter and trash containers (and a single homeless guy fast asleep on an old mattress), Barbara thought back on that night, seemingly a lifetime ago when she and her best friend had shared a table a warm summer night.

"_...goodnight kiss? Oh come on, that is so cliche." Pamela was chuckling into her glass of water, Barbara was pouting at her from the other side at the round table._

"_No it's not... Okay maybe it is, but it _is_ still kind of romantic."_

"_Yea right, picking up some stranger just to lock lips with him on your front porch is your idea of romance? You really need to stop reading those trashy novels you know; they aren't good for you." Barbara made a grimace at the first part; when she said it like _that_ it didn't sound very appealing._

"_First of all, don't knock it until you try it. You might find it... enjoyable." A small smirk found itself on her face at Pam's expression. God she was fun to tease sometimes. "And second of all, those books are great pieces of literature." Pamela's deadpan expression remained unchanged. "...Fine, they are a bit trashy, I admit it, but they are cheap, like, really really cheap. And they're not so bad after a while. But back to front porch lip locking."_

"_God, you're persistent... You do know I don't have a front porch right?"_

"_That's okay, I read the front of the apartment complex works too. Or the front door to your apartment if you like the acoustics in the staircase."_

"_No. No, front door to apartment complex sounds good- _some_ day. Not now." She added the last part in a hurry seeing Barb's mock lecherous grin._

"_Aww, but I wanted to watch." The amused redhead had moved next to her friend and tried to give her the puppy dog eyes only to receive a light hit on the arm._

"_Down perv. Don't make me bring out the hose."_

"_Humph, spoilsport."_

Landing in a roll silently after climbing a fence in an alley, Barbara looked around worried. The nagging feeling of doubt was one of the worst parts of being a crime fighter, the constant 'what if' that continuously causes one to second guess their own decisions if those decisions aren't backed up by ironclad proof.

The sound of crying was the first clue that she had been right, for better or worst. Rounding the corner to the front of the dark apartment complex (where Pamela used to live, that is) she spotted two figures in the dark.

The first was sitting on the concrete stairway with her back against the black door, hugging her knees while tears streamed down her face before landing on the knees and arms of the regular clothes she was still wearing. The same clothes, Barbara realized, that she had been wearing the last time she had been in the nightclub with the other Red.

The second was lying still on the sidewalk. From the smell of it the person had died. A quick search for a pulse proved this fact beyond a doubt; the coldness of the body alone removed all hopes of a last minute rescue.

Turning around to face the second figure, Barbara took a deep breath and prepared herself for what might come.

"Red?" Looking up sharply, having first now noticed the new arrival, Pamela started panicking as she recognized her friend standing next to the dead body.

"It's okay Pam. I know it's not your fault." Walking slowly to sit beside her friend, glad to put some distance (however little) between herself and Romeo, the other Red tried not to spook the villainess (the silent residential area might be a far cry from a botanical garden, but knowing what Poison Ivy is capable of and the fact she was currently unarmed, even the small weed sticking out of the asphalt at her feet looked moderately intimidating right now).

"What are _you_ doing here?" _"Okay, on with the poker face, 'cuz it's bullshit time."_

"I overheard dad talking with Batman and figured you would be here." Pamela looked unconvinced.

"Okay, maybe overheard was the wrong word. I had kind of listened in on them when big tall and gruesome found out." The other girl snorted in amusement. _"You don't believe me when I say I found you on my own (which was technically true) but you do when I say I was busted by the Batman. That's harsh Red."_

"So you, what, just _asked_ the Dark Knight nicely if he could give you a ride here?" The bitterness in her voice was now clear. It would seem it was not amusement previously but rather disbelief. _"Note to self; get more lessons on how to read people after this."_

"Maybe _asked_ was the wrong word." Both teens stiffened at the familiar, gravely voice coming from the nearby shadows. "But Ms. Gordon can be surprisingly persistent when it concerns the welfare of her friends." The caped crusader materialized from the shadows like a piece of the darkness itself come to life, moving so silently and fluently in the night one would think he was more liquid than solid.

In other words, he was looking downright creepy.

"The police will be here soon to take you back to Arkham. Can I trust you not to resist?" It was not a question he often asked people like her. Small time crooks, sure, but not villains. Pamela looked surprised for a moment herself, glancing back at Barbara, who gave her a reassuring nod, before once again looking back at Batman.

"I won't." She rubbed her face to remove the last tears clinging to it. "This time at least." Batman's expression didn't change as he moved back into the shadows from whence he came.

"Batman?" He stopped just before disappearing completely and turned around to look at Barbara who had placed her right arm around Pamela's shoulder, holding her close.

"Would it be alright if we went around the corner to wait there. It's just..." She glanced at the body, hoping he would understand. Luckily the other girl didn't notice this, having grown very silent since she managed to calm her down.

"Of course. As long as you stay close by." And with those last parting words the protector of Gotham once again vanished in the night.

Locating the wooden bench around the corner was easy but her silent partner seemed a very unsteady (if practically dead) on her feet.

"Red, are you alright?"

"Mmm?" Confusion showed through half lidded eyes.

"I asked if you were all right?" Sitting down on the bench she loosened her hold on the other girl.

Yawning tiredly, she opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as she tried to sit a bit straighter.

"Ehh. Sorry, I- *yawn* I'm just tired. 's been a long night"

"How are you- No, stupid question."

"Feeling? Better actually *yawn*. Loads... Thanks for asking, Red." She finished with a tired smirk.

"Sorry 'bout... not believing you though." _"You shouldn't be; I _was_ lying to you after all."_ "I've just- *yawn* just had a bad night."

"...Why'd you do it? Today I mean."

"Why do it or why today?"

"Both, I suppose."

Pamela leaned back into her friend, closing her eyes.

"Felt like it I guess. We had fun last time *yawn*, or at least I did and... I guess I just... wanted to feel like that again... Didn't have such a good time though. So I wanted to try your way."

"_My_ way?"

"Mhmm. The whole 'kissing on the front porch' thing *yawn*... Didn't work." She was getting sad again.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be. It _did_ sound kinda fun but, *yawn* I don't know... Just wasn't. Not before the kiss... 'specially not after... 'till you came." Snuggling closer into the warm girl next to her, Pam was having a hard time staying awake.

"How about we talk some more tomorrow. I'm sure I can get pops to pull some strings with some _persistence_ if I need to."

"Mhmm." Ignoring the sound of sirens closing in, Barbara looked at the sleeping girl in her arms affectionately. Lowering her head, she gently kissed her on the cheek, being careful as to not touch the dark green lips next to it.

"Goodnight Red. I'll see you again tomorrow." Pamela didn't answer her back but with the serene smile appearing on her face she didn't need to.

**Author note: **Wow, that has to be the longest chapter I have ever written. Must be the messiest too (I wrote most of the story in one go and while I like the different parts of it they are still very diverse compared to one another, making it kinda weird to read when stringing them together despite them all being part of the same story. (Maybe this has to do with the fact I had wanted to initially make a dark story focusing on the complicated relationship between Barbara Gordon/Batgirl and her friend/enemy Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy but decided on a happy ending instead of a sad one)). I also put in a few references to the Batman universe (see if you can spot them (a particularly vague one is a reference to a Batman-centric moment in the comic 'Justice', which I can recommend reading if you haven't already)).


End file.
